


Nirvana

by wipetheassassin



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Hydra (Marvel), Stucky - Freeform, stevebucky - Freeform, stevenat - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-27
Updated: 2015-04-03
Packaged: 2018-03-03 21:02:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2887808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wipetheassassin/pseuds/wipetheassassin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve Rogers, desperate and hopeful, tries to return his childhood friend Bucky Barnes’ memories to him while S.H.I.E.L.D torture him into getting information about Hydra’s plans. Buck, who’d prefer to be addressed as the Winter Soldier, refrains from being helped and is also keeping a secret of his own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Friends come and go,  
> but with a precious few you should hold on.  
> Work hard to bridge the gaps in geography and lifestyle,  
> because the older you get,  
> the more you need the people  
> who knew you when you were young.

"Enough, That's enough!" The soldier yelled through the abundant, clear one-way-view glass  screen separating him from the concrete cell. Inside stood a dark skinned man. His shirt damp from not only his sweat, but also different types of colored liquids that resemble to content in the jars scattered on metal tables. The man huffed slowly lowering his shoulders with the exhale and turned to face the screen.

"Captain, we need answers. We need a lead. This is the only way-" the man said.

"I know." The soldier interrupted with a slight absence in his voice. "I just wish you'd at least take it easy on him"

The torturer gave him a quick glance at the prisoner being held up by the arms with spirals of chains attached to the ceiling, before looking back at the soldier. The soldier's face slackened; his brow furrowed, eyes remaining on the prisoner in concern as if he were searching for a response. The torturer stood his ground before wiping the sweat off with the back of his hand. He turned towards the table of torture instruments. Knives,chains,nails and cranks were scattered on a metal table. The prisoner, obviously weak, didn't show any sign of pain.

"May I continue, Captain?" the man said. His eyes wondered at every inch of the one-way-view screen, obviously mirrored on his side of the screen. The soldier didn't respond. 

The torturer sighed with a turn, picked up an item furthest away from him and walked towards the prisoner. Hysterical shreaks of pain whipped through the air. More blood being drawn from his torso as an addition to his collection of scars he'll receive after today. Cutting over healed cuts and scars, the torturer mumbled questions to the prisoner giving him the opportunity to answer before he carried on. Each time; the prisoner would refuse to answer and keep silent. The procedure would cycle throughout the day. Never getting answers. Spilling more blood.

"Maybe its best you wait outside, Cap." A short red head appeared beside him. Her straight hair hung lightly by her shoulders. Her eyes focused on the scene in front of her. She didn't show a hint of remorse for the events happening as if the process wasn't a new process to her. 

"If you don't like the way it's going then you might as well not watch." Her stern tone made the soldier shiver before breaking his attention from the prisoner to the red head. She did the same, returning the gaze. Her eyes cold yet wholesome. In defeat he turned at his heel and walked towards the exit.

"You continue....and don't stop until you get answers." the red head instructed before following the soldier.

 

 

Screams echoed down the halls. Steve stiffened slightly walking down the corridor; passing consulting rooms, labs filled with white clothed people with goggles leading towards the base of S.H.I.E.L.D. Long painful screams. Some filled with desperation, some accompanied with whimpers. It was all too much.

They stopped sharply as he stumbled through the double doors at the end of the corridor.

"It's been two weeks." he half whispered to the red head on his heels.

"I know. I'm sorry but we're not getting any information from him" She added without a hint of remorse in her apology. He turned back at her stopping at his tracks and gave her a cold look.

"What? If it were anyone else you'd be doing the same." she said.

"No!" He yelled startling himself. "No, I wouldn't, torturing someone should never be an option" he said in a more hushed tone now walking away from her. His breath hitching at every muffled wail of pain. "Since when did S.H.I.E.L.D start torturing people? Aren't we supposed to saves lives not put them on the line?"

"Desperate times, Rogers." she mumbled.

He went through the last set of double doors and found himself in a room filled with round tables, monitors, jet black chairs and couches. Sat in front of a computer screen was Sam Wilson, who had his back faced away from them tapping away. His shoulders were hunched over the keyboard as if he was physically being absorbed into the monitor.  

"Seriously, it's ridiculous how easy it is to hack into S.H.I.E.L.D's system. It took me less than 10-15 minutes max before-" He turned in his chair to the soldiers cold expression. His face looked pinched, his eyes glassy. He knew his friend was trying to keep it together but knew he could crack any second.

"What's wrong with you?" He asked already knowing the answer to his question.

Another wail filled the air causing the soldier to turn his head slightly towards the door. His feet remained rooted into the ground. Sam gave the red head a look- raising his eyebrows before she shook her head slightly. He sighed.

"No difference to yesterday then?"

"And the day before, and the day before that." the soldier added with his head still turned to the side. "We need a different approach."

"Steve if there was another-look, there is no other way. We can't just sweet talk him into giving us answers." Sam said after standing up to walk towards them. The creases on Sam's pant's loosened as he started to walk towards them and up three steps.

Steve's eyes buried themselves under his brown lashes as he slowly inhaled. His nose creased, mouth twitched.

"I could try and reason with him." he suggested hopefully.

"And what? Risk your life? He's a trained assassin with a hint of insanity-scrap that, a heck load of insanity. That guy could kill you with just a paper clip, Steve. You're not going in there." Sam mocked him.

"I'm the only person he'd listen too-"

"He's not the person you used to know." the red head spoke up, walking further in front of him so she was in his field of vision. "No matter how much you want it to be true."

"But-" Steve protested.

"We haven't faced a situation like this since New York." She interrupted. "We don't want a repeat of history" Her small but tough frame stood firmly against a set of hand rails that circled the center of the room. Her arms crossed and eyes wary.

Sam stood with his weight supported by his forearm; rested on the nearest wall with one fingernail being bitten nervously. The prisoner has his hooks deep under his skin, anyone with eyes could see what it was doing to Steve. Sam had gone through day after day watching Steve slowly lose it. Watching a man who's been through hell and back being torn apart worse that he's ever been.

Steve, the largest and strongest person in the room, suddenly felt like the smallest person in the world. His cheeks flushed and mind fresh out of ideas. He was beyond desperate to help the prisoner but got knocked down at every suggestion he raised. The past few weeks had been hell for him, hearing the screams both through the walls and inside his head when he attempted to sleep. S.H.I.E.L.D was beyond desperate for answers and torture was the only successful method in getting what they needed. Steve's shoulders slouched as he dragged his legs down the stairs, reaching the circular table with spread sheets of information. A familiar face was repeated on every sheet with scribbles and post-it notes barricading the page.  **"DANGEROUS"** ,  **"VIOLENT"**  and  **"DEADLY** " were stamped in red block capitals on virtually every sheet. He carried on flipping through the pages he had already memorized. He blinked through the information and scanned over the pages again and again, and again.  **"PROPERTY OF S.H.I.E.LD** " was stamped over every picture.

 

"I think you need sleep Cap, you're exhausted." the red head brushed her hand onto his forearm but pulled away nervously letting it fall down to her side.

"I've been sleeping my whole life, Tasha. I'm done with being asleep." He stormed towards the doors barely finishing his sentence. A gush of air hit him harshly exiting through the double doors. Sam had already leaped across the room catching up to Steve at the doors.

"Who ever he used to be, the guy he is now I don't think he's the guy you save." Sam yelled down the corridor catching up to Steve as he took large strides down the hall. "He's the kind you stop."

And just like that, Steve froze in his tracks taking in every word. He blinked twice getting rid of the sheen of tears barricading his vision and set off forwards towards the prison cell.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

The walls were pure concrete. The floors musty with thick layers of dust. The cell was poorly furnished, what remained intact was a wooden table with two chairs either side of it and a rusty bed only fit for a small child, covered in unrecognizable stains. Not one window was in sight just four square, cold walls. A slight tap of a liquid settled in the corner of the room giving the room that extra notch of eeriness. Rusty pipes were tucked beneath the concrete walls, peeped out again and embedded back into the wall making a spiral shape in and out of the walls.

 

Steve winced as the metal door to the cell slammed shut behind him. He kept his distance from the prisoner sat on the bed with his legs crossed. He cleared his throat getting the prisoners attention.

"You shouldn't be here" the prisoner's disembodied voice mumbled. His thick curls framed his square face, covered in fine patches of stubble. His head hung low, avoiding eye contact but he knew Steve was in the room. His back arched forwards and his elbows rested on his crossed legs. His only human hand trailed up and down his metal arm brushing every detail,crack and dent gently as if he was in awe of the metal bionic arm.

 

The silver on his arm reflected the skin tone of his right hand dancing over it inch by inch. His face, still dripping with blood, faced downwards. 

"I came to reason with you." Steve's voice echoed.

Taking a hesitant step closer, Steve raised his hand towards the table in the middle of the cell inviting him to join him.

"I wouldn't come closer if i was you." He said without taking his eyes off his arm. "Not that I could hurt you anyway. Your...friends installed a bug in my arm to prevent me from hurting anyone. Even myself." His eye lashes danced around his eyes as he twitched his metal fingers one by one in fascination. "Any sudden movement and I get shocked but i'd still prefer if you'd keep your distance."

Steve's eyes that we're starting to clear up; filled with tears once more. He locked his jaw, exhaled before taking one more step towards the deserted table; not taking his eyes off the prisoner.

"Like I said. I came here to reason with you"

"You should leave, I don't have the information you say I have."

"Bucky-"

"STOP CALLING ME BUCKY!" the prisoner slammed both his hands on the metal frame of the bed within a blink of the eye. Sudden flashes of sparks traveled from the apex of his arm down to his finger tips causing him to jerk in pain for several seconds. Like a set of fire works had lit up inside his metal arm and were taking turns in flaring into bursts of light. The pain in his head was enormous, as if his head was about to explode. Every inch of his skin crawled with goosebumps and burned. It felt as though the blood in his body was boiling and his veins were about to burst through. Steve, who was previously sitting, was now half standing up-half sitting in shock watching the prisoners shoulders and legs tremble repeatedly until the sparks died down and the buzzing sound vanished.

Exhausted, the prisoner buried his head in his hands catching his breath. He put his head in his hands and breathed heavily.

A long pause stretched between them.

"Stop. Calling. Me. Bucky" He repeated panting to himself. His eyes blinking franticly.

"I'm just calling you by your name."

"My name!?" He spat, "I don't HAVE a name. I have a code. I was nicknamed The Winter Soldier by Hydra, I exist purely to complete my mission. Once it's completed I will be terminated. I wont be needed anymore. I don't know how THIS happened" Bucky gestured to his arm. "I don't know why they chose me. All I know is that I need to accomplish what needs to be done. It's all on my shoulders. I don't have a past and I obviously wont have a future."

His gaze never left Steve's as he leaned forwards onto the edge of the bed saying each word with enthusiasm and depth. Steve slowly sat calmly and collected by the table refraining to show a glimpse of discomfort that was bubbling in his stomach. He hated seeing his friend like this. He hated seeing him sitting on a sheet stained with his own blood and sweat, and he hated the fact that his longest friend has no relocation of him ever being Bucky. It pained him.

Steve sat forward resting his forearms on the brim of the table.

"Buck-Look...you don't remember me but I know you. I know you better than anyone. You and I, we've been together our whole lives. All this may not mean anything to you but i need you to trust me. Trust me when i say that this isn't you. What Hydra has done to you has changed you for the worst. All I need from you is information and I promise, no more harm will be done to you. You have my word."

"Your word means nothing to me."

"Then just look out for yourself. You don't like being tortured day after day do you?" Steve's voice raised.

"Would anyone?" Bucky copied his tone turning his head to the side.

Frustrated and angry Steve stood up, kicking his chair back and started pacing back and forth running his hand over his mouth and through his hair. He stopped after several minutes and faced Bucky once more.

"What is your mission? Tell me-at least tell me that" Steve said.

Bucky's eyes diverted to his bloody bruised bare feet. He played with his arm once more not answering Steve's question for a brief moment.

"Its classified I'm unable to tell anyone my agenda"

"Just tell me. Tell me what's so important for you to mass murder good, innocent people. Who or what are you after? Are you after S.H.I.E.L.D's weaponry? Our data!? What!!!?" Steve blurted out desperate for answers. He licked his lips quickly before continuing with a calmer tone. He lowered his arms and placed his hands on his hips.

"Buddy please just-" Steve added with a hushed tone.

"I am not your friend." Bucky replied calmly. "Nor am I going to tell you anything."

A dark smirk appeared on his bruised face which quickly shifted into a squint of pain. He hunched over gripping onto his stomach where his skin, covered in gushes of blood, was exposed through tears in his shirt. The pain rattled around Bucky's body which caused him to groan in agony. Steve was by his side within seconds holding him up for support but Bucky eventually forced him off.

"You're bleeding too much."

"Leave just go."

"No!"

"GO!" Bucky yelled between groans of pain.

_Flickers of colors flashed past Bucky's eyes. Swirls of pictures printed themselves on the insides of his eye lids. He shook his head trying to shake them away. Words, voices repeated themselves over and over again. Pictures became clearer the more Bucky resisted. He held his head in his hands and opened his eyes before squinting them shut as the pictures refused to disappear. He couldn't make out what the echoed words were but he recognized the voices. He recognized his own voice. The same tremble and desperation Steve had seconds ago. The same words that slipped Bucky's mouth at one point. **'No, not without you'**  The pictures became hazy and colors thickened into darkness. He removed his hands from his head and readjusted to the lighting in his cell with a groan. _

_"Bucky?" The words echoed not out loud but in his head followed by more pictures and flashes of colors. He was suddenly surrounded by brown brick buildings. He looked down at himself dressed in a brown suit and smart shoes. Before him stood a skinny, short blond kid with hallow cheekbones  and a small face. **'The thing is...you don't have to. I'm with you till the end of the line, pal'**  the words slipped out of his own mouth without warning. Without him meaning to say them. The small blond with sharp cheek bones smiled back at him before holding onto him.  **'Thank you Buck'**_

 

"Bucky?" His name called him back to reality. Back to his cell once more. "Bucky?" The voice asked again.

He shook his head. Beads of sweat dropped from his temple. Steve stood in front of him gazing at him. Bucky grunted one more time and shook his head once more. He calmed his breathing before answering.

"I told you" He raised his head to meet Steve's eyes "to stop calling me Bucky" he blinked wildly to make sure what he was seeing was real.

Steve hesitated for a brief moment, gave a disappointed sigh, straightened his back and turned on his heal and left. He turned once on the other side of the glass screen to see Bucky mumble something to himself returning his gaze back to his metal arm. The Bucky he once knew is long gone.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Agent Hill and Steve continue to interrogate the prisoner and reveal new information.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't entirely based off Marvel comics however I did use some of their characters. The events taken place were mostly based off MCU Captain America: Winter Soldier as well as my own imagination so don’t expect any of it to be correct. I hope you enjoy this chapter!

_A mass of people piled into the Brooklyn streets. Most of them linked by the arm of their significant others carrying groceries - some holding onto their infants as they stumble behind fast outstretched legs. A collection of shops selling clothes, shoes and watches stood ajar for people to wonder in and out rapidly. The thick stench of car exhausts filled the air and whiffed into the dark haired man’s face causing his nose to wrinkle in on itself as he crossed the cobbled roads streaming with automobiles.  A beggar stood on one of the store steps, arms outstretched, eyes intensely begging passers for money.  The dark haired man paused to drop a hand full of coins into his charred, unwashed palm while ducking into a one way alleyway tiled up with bricks._

_Amongst the stranded beige boxes covered in sickly green moss engulfing the remains of the untouched surface area and the overflowing dumpsters, stood two large boys. At first they appeared to be mumbling to each other, one towering over the other in a hushed tone but then broke into a fight throwing punches and kicks to a shadowy figure. The dark haired man stood silently metres away watching the two animalistic goons attack the huddled figure lying by their feet._

_One of them had a larger build, broad legs and thick arms that pressed against the thin layers of fabric desperately trying to remain in one piece while his smaller associate towered over him by a foot, despite his lanky physique. They both took turns in striking the figure while taking a glimpse of a pause to spit more abusive words at him- one voice harsher, one voice deeper than the other._

_One turned, after hearing the dark haired man silently approach them from behind, and stared at him before turning back paying no attention to the man what so ever. Faint sobs escaped the huddled figure on the ground reassuring the dark haired man that the boy is still alive._

_“Hey. Quit it you’ve had your fun- HEY”! he yelled after both boys failed to take notice of him._

_Both the figures stopped promptly to turn slowly to face the direction where the shadowy figure yelled. The taller, lanky boy wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, giving the smaller one a stern nod before they both bolted into a sprint towards the man. Within seconds the man had tackled one to the ground after punching the air out of the other's chest leaving him heaving for air against the alley’s brick wall. A swirl of arms and legs spiraled in the air.  The dark haired man gave a powerful roundhouse kick in the smaller boy’s ribs; he howled in torment but still raced towards him. The tall boy gave him a sharp punch to the jaw but the dark haired man recovered quickly in response. With blood streaming out the corner of his mouth the dark haired man lunged at the tall boy and rammed his head into the nearest wall. A spine chilling crunch sound echoed when the boy’s face met the wall._

_The smaller boy saw his accomplice lay still on the cobbled ground before glancing back at the man towering above him. His breathing was off but his eyes remained locked on him and his arms out-stretched from his sides almost inviting him to give it another shot and fight some more. Instead, the man pulled his friend to his feet and half ran-half limped away from him. The dark haired man was then left with the victim who was-at that point, sat against a dumpster staring._

_The man took a quick glance at him while exhaling at the sight of the goons leaving. He then walks to the boy and offers him his rather soiled, bloody hand. The small boy sat still. His eyes wide and alert, not falling off the man’s face. The man let out a hefty laugh with his arm still stretched out to the boy, the kind of laugh that would have frightened a small child if it weren’t for the kind smile that beamed off his face._

_“I’m not gonna hurt you, alright? You can trust me.” He leaned closer. He smiled sincerely, his eyes urging him to take his hand._

_The boy eventually took his hand and was raised effortlessly to his feet._

_“I’m James” The man announced quickly while the boy dusted himself off. Up close James saw that the ‘boy’ was not as small as he looked. His body was young. His arms, legs, torso they all were frail and looked as if they were about to give way against gravity itself but his eyes were old. They had a sharp clear-sighted feel to them that echoed wisdom._

_“Steven” the blond haired man replied with one hand brushing through his outgrown hair “but I prefer Steve”._

_James grinned softly enough for his lips to form a perfect arc and for his eyes to form slight crinkles in the corners. He raised his chin before replying with a gentle smile._

_“Well in that case, you can call me Bucky”_

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Captain!" A deep voice ripped through the air knocking Steve out of his day dream. He staggered slightly against the wall he was leaning on causing his arms to unravel from his chest and settle by his sides. All eyes in the room were on him.

"Captain, Are you able to continue?" Agent Hill asked, seated near him.

"Yes-Yes...continue"

He struggled to remember how he got from his sanctuary for room all the way down to Base yet alone remember what the conversation over 20 agents, including Romanoff, are discussing.

"Like I was saying…" Nick Fury mumbled before dabbling over information to keep the agents up to date of the situation they're facing.

 

"Cap, you alright?" Agent Romanoff asked silently appearing at his side.  Steve has yet to learn how she could get point A to B without anyone hearing or seeing her approach. She was suited up into her thick black - blue leather gear, which complimented her figure, with gun holsters and numerous gadgets attached to her wrists, legs and hips. Her red hair perfectly straightened and curled inwards when it reached just below her shoulders.

"Why are you geared up?" He half whispered.

 

"Why are you?" She twitched her lips into a smile. Steve looked down at himself to find that he also was suited up.  Over his arms laid the royal blue and silver tailored suit. Attached to his back was the indestructible shield, polished to its finest, sitting comfortably in its latches. He craned his neck back down at his chest almost expecting it all to fade or disappear and for him to wake up sitting in bed in his blue sweatpants and white polo shirt. Steve’s blank expression and vacant eyes caused agent Romanoff to scold at him. She let out a long breath.

"You didn’t get any sleep at all last night?"

 

"No. I didn't."

She gave him another heavy sigh before turning her attention back to the conference.

"That serum you took doesn't strengthen your ability to stay up on endless nights."

"Yeah well... it wasn't intentional." Steve’s voice came to a stop when Nick gave him a fierce glare.

 

"Captain with all due respect, we're facing a situation similar to the New York incident so this discussion requires full attention and co-operation. If you and Agent Romanoff would prefer to continue your little chit chat in a private room then please, be my guest." Nick rolled the words off his tongue in his usual sarcastic, slow tone. The room grew silent. Eyes fixated on them both.

“With all due respect” Steve spat out causing agent Romanoff to give him a quick side glance as a warning. "I’d want to know all the details on how we're going to do this, including the details on how you're going to use the prisoner to your advantage."

"OUR advantage, Captain…you're part of this more than anyone else." Nick corrected.

Steve stumbled for words at first. His eyes darted from face to face around the room. Agent Hill kicked her chair back and stood up at the rounded table.

"Our objective is to question the prisoner again. We need to find out what it is that Hydra desperately wants in terms of S.H.I.E.L.D data, why they're willing to mass murder and take innocent lives in the process." She boomed through the room.

 Numerous voices raised into murmurs.

"Questioning starts now. The sooner we get answers the more lives we save." Agent Hill added before leaving the room with her hair brown bouncing in a loose bun with every step. With that to conclude, Steve followed her to the door before Sam gave him a beckoning look from the opposite side of the room, which Steve chose to ignore.

 

 

"Agent Hill." Steve called out while jogging to catch up with her long strides.

"If you have any more questions you can consult with Fury."

"No, I want to question him with you." Agent Hill's strides began to slow slightly. Her eyes scanning Steve’s before stopping at the entrance of the prison.

“This isn’t a two man job”

“I want to help”

"Are you sure you can do this?" She asked hastily. He replied with a nod. "Cap, you backed out the first time we questioned him."

"Because you were torturing him and there isn't any involved this time" He said hastily.  His eyes drifted to hers. A doubtful expression sat on her face. "Right?"

"Let's hope it doesn't lead to that." She added before pushing the heavy metal door, sending a gust of cold air into his face.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sitting on the cell floor against the wall was Bucky. His head draped down, one leg bent with an arm resting by his knee. Usually they'd step into his cell and interrogate him from the interior but this time agent Hill insisted on speaking to him through the speakers on the other side of the one way glass screen.

"We have a change of plan for today" Her voice boomed through the speakers. "Instead of getting answers from you through torture, we’re simply going to ask you questions"

Bucky didn't even flinch. Steve wondered if Bucky could hear her at all.

"I need you to co-operate with us" She paused

 

Bucky locked his jaw before glaring towards the screen through his hair. He dropped his gaze before returning back to staring at the floor.

Agent Hill began with the questions.

"What does Hydra want from S.H.I.E.L.D?" No answer.

"What is your mission?" No answer

"Why were you specifically assigned to this mission?" No answer

"Are there others like you?" No answer

 

After a number of unanswered questions agent Hill slowly rests her back against her chair with a sigh. She turns to Steve giving him an encouraging look becoming him to ask questions to see if Bucky would be willing to co-operate then, if it were coming from him but Steve simply gave her a shook of the head before staring back at the glass.

 

"What is your real name?" She asked after a long pause. "..Because we know you by two names."

This caught Bucky's attention. His head rose slightly.

"We know you as the Winter Soldier." She paused. "And we also know you as Buck-"

"My NAME" he grumbled. "…Is not Bucky. I don't have a name. I have a code and a nickname that’s all."

 

"Why do I feel like you're lying to me Bucky-"

Within a split second he was on his feet taking large strides towards the screen. He punched his fists on the glass making it shudder and wobble for several seconds.

 

"I don’t answer to you or your questions. I don’t have to co-operate with you. I don’t have to feed you information." His face; filled with rage, was almost pressed against the screen. Little strings of spit bounced out from his lips and settled on the glass as he grew more and more impatient. "I am not you're little puppet. I'm not going to tell you shit."

 

Agent Hill remained calm and collected hearing every word he had to say. Her grip loosening from the mic before settling on the desk covered with overspread sheets of paper. She flipped through 4 maybe 5 sheets before looking back up.

"Late 20s. Born in Shelbyville, Indiana in 1925"

"Stop." Rage pooled in his eyes.

"Orphan, the son of a soldier killed in training at U.S. Army Camp Lehigh in Virginia just before the United States' entry into World War 2." Her voice raised to match his. Steve's pulse began to quicken.

"ENOUGH I am tired of you demanding answers! I’m tired of you getting in my head!"

Bucky punched again at the screen making it shudder under his fits, small dents and cracks began to appear where his metal arm constantly made incisions. Angry scowls left his lips. Flickers of spit continuously splattering against the glass as he wailed a hefty cry. His eyes, wild like fire were determined but then he flipped like a light switch and suddenly stopped. He returned to the position he was before flipping into angry screams, with his arms being supported against the glass and knuckles pressed close to each other and his head hanging low. Collecting gasps of air, Bucky spoke in a hushed tone.

"You enjoy this, don’t you?" he asked. "Pushing me to my limits”

"All we want is answers." She added.

"And you." Bucky tilts his head and stares straight at Steve. Despite the mirrored screen preventing him from seeing the other side, Bucky withheld his stare on Steve. Steve unravelled his crossed arms and let them swing to his sides. He opened his mouth slightly failing to deliver a response.

"You enjoy seeing me like this?"

Bucky's native hair that was once a light shade of brown but now blackened with sweat and swung by the side of his face. His eyes continued to burn through the glass. Up close Bucky looked a lot worse, his pink lips were dry and chapped, his cheeks flushed from colour and his eyes surrounded by bags of dark skin.

Steve spoke up.

"I don’t enjoy this any more than you do, Buck- Listen.... You need to just-just answer the questions and all this will be over." Steve gestured towards the cell even though he knew Bucky wouldn't be able to see what he meant by 'all this'.

"If I really was this Bucky… your friend, you wouldn't have let this happen to me in the first place." Bucky raised the corner of his lips to curl into a menacing grin. "Some friend you are."

Heat rose to Steve’s cheeks. Bucky smirk rippled back into a frown. He slipped his arm and fists off the screen, and let them swing gently by his sides. He brushed his mouth with the back of his hand before turning to return back to the corner of the cell with his arms resting on his propped up knees.

"You need to stop messing with my head” Bucky roared loud enough for them to hear over the echo. “Stop feeding me lies, stop calling me your friend and give up. I'm not James. I’m not your friend"

 

 

Agent Hill was already out of her seat and walking towards the exit before Steve could take in everything that had just happened. He skipped up behind her heels and caught up with her. Pushing the metal door to the corridor connecting the base with the cell; Steve asked

"What was that?" He asked.

"What was what?" She replied.

"Your approach. We're you meaning to make him snap?"

She smiled still walking with her arms swinging by her sides.

"Tick them off and they'll eventually give you answers…and what was with you?”

A silence stretched between them. She gave Steve a quick glance going through the next set of double doors. His eyes distant but his mouth was tweaked into a perfect grin.

"What are you smiling about?" She asked

"We made progress."

"Progress? He still refuses to give us anything. I wouldn't call that progress."

"No"  He huffed a quick laugh. "But he did tell me to stop calling him James."

 

Her eyebrow raised; a confused look shun on her face. Steve stopped at the end of the corridor to face her.

"This whole time, we've addressed him as Bucky. We never once told him his real name was James, never….. He thought of that himself." he smiled again "Progress."


End file.
